


Not as if Salt-Rose

by eidolon



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24071041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidolon/pseuds/eidolon
Summary: Nerevar confesses his feelings.
Relationships: Dagoth Ur/Indoril Nerevar
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Not as if Salt-Rose

“I love you,” Nerevar blurted awkwardly, hands twisting in the folds of his cloak, dripping in the doorway. It was a rainy evening in late autumn. The chill in the air demanded an extra layer or two, but the damp was pervasive enough to defeat most fabrics. He felt clammy. It was not, in any sense, a romantic evening.

Voryn looked up from the tea that was nearly ready, glancing over Nerevar’s soggy clothes and shaking hands. “I love you, too,” he said simply, and fished for a second mug. “Where are your gloves?”

“I--” Nerevar began. He blinked. “You.  _ What _ ?” 

“You’re freezing. Come over here by the fire, and give me that.” He confiscated the damp cloak and maneuvered Nerevar’s confused and unresisting body into the chair. Voryn’s own cloak was warm and dry and he draped it around Nerevar’s shoulders. He poured the tea and gave Nerevar’s a generous spoonful of honey, then pushed it across the table. “What  _ is _ wrong?” he asked, finally, stirring his own tea.

“You love me?” Nerevar said in a small voice, nervously. “Really?”

Voryn stared at him for a long moment, then said gently, “Did you not know? After all of this time…? We’ve known each other since we were children.”

“No, I mean--” Nerevar rubbed his face. “I mean I'm. In love with. You.”

“So do I.” He folded one of his hands around Nerevar’s, and smiled ruefully. “I thought you knew.” Nerevar’s hands were cold, but Voryn suspected they were shaking more from nerves than the temperature. Voryn rubbed them in what he hoped was a reassuring way. Voryn had never been exceptionally  _ good  _ at people.

“I’m an idiot. I’ve been  _ worried _ . That you would be upset, somehow. That I would wreck everything by trying to talk about it, and I was afraid--afraid that you wouldn’t… I don’t know.” Nerevar dragged his fingers through his hair. “You could do better, you know. Someone who isn’t, generally, an idiot, or whose eyes didn’t glaze over when you tried to talk about magic or your research.”

Voryn recaptured one of his hands and sighed. “Nerevar, that is no one better than you, no one I would prefer, no one who would suit me more.”

“Are you  _ sure, _ ” Nerevar said helplessly. 

“Yes. You aren’t putting a curse on me. I’ve apparently had far longer than you to consider it, and I have. What are you worrying over? What scares you, specifically--if you know?”

“I didn’t—” He shook his head. “Don’t know what I’m doing. With anything, really.” Nerevar smiled lopsidedly, and huffed a laugh. “People think I‘m so gifted with words, but look at me. Not sure I could be more awkward if I tried.”

“None of that ever mattered to me, you know. What other people seem to value in you, which tends to only be what they wish to turn to their own ends. I fell in love with an awkward and earnest boy who smiled like the sun and had a heart made of gold. A long, long time ago. You haven’t changed, and I haven’t wanted you to.”

Nerevar took a sip of his tea, looking down at the table. “Sometimes I’m afraid I will. That I’m going to lose myself, or my understanding of myself, somewhere between the politics and negotiations. I worry about it too much, maybe. But you still feel like home, so I can’t have, yet,” he said softly, fiddling with the spoon while he tried and failed to distract himself from the tears prickling his eyes.

Voryn made a quiet sound and pulled Nerevar to his feet to enfold him in his arms. 

“Going to get your shirt wet,” Nerevar murmured into the curve of his shoulder, muffled. It was silk. Soft under his cheek. Voryn smelled like sandalwood.

Voryn combed his fingers slowly through Nerevar’s hair. “Fuck the shirt.”

“Going to get  _ snot  _ on your shirt.”

_ “Fuck the shirt.” _

“I’m not even sure why I’m crying,” Nerevar said after a moment, trying and somewhat failing to reassemble himself.

Voryn leaned his cheek against Nerevar and hummed quietly. “You were very afraid.”

“I was very afraid.” Nerevar rubbed his eyes gracelessly on one sleeve and sighed. “And tired. I’m so tired, Voryn.” 

“Then put it down for a little while. All of this. It can wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
> I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;  
> so I love you because I know no other way
> 
> than this
> 
> \-- Pablo Neruda


End file.
